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BLACK IS UGLY AS F*@K!


I recently came upon a video by Haitian (I think he's Haitian) mumble rapper Glokknine. He was a guest of the great negrologist DJ Vlad from Vlad TV. During the interview, Glokk proceeded to say that he was "black as fuck." He implied that his skin color made him so ugly to the point that he would not want to have a child with a dark skin woman. He said he believed that any child conceived with a dark skinned woman would be just as physically un-appealing as he believes he is.

I was horrified at these statements. I was even more horrified when I found myself understanding where he was coming from. It appears that we have come full circle from being ashamed of our skin to celebrating our beauty, back to being appalled at our own reflection. But a cursory examination of the present order quietly confirms Glokk's tormented confessions.

After the historical imprint of Marcus Garvey, and the subsequent impact of the cultural renaissance spearheaded by the Black Power Movement of the late 60's and early 70's, Black people throughout the Diaspora are still haunted by the demonic apparitions of their own inferiority. This ghost takes the form of a celestial prosecuting naysayer that cross examines the most life affirming examples of black dignity with the sobering reality of the here and now.

It points to the glaring contradictions of black acquiescence in the face of nearly limitless white power. It demonstrates the ease by which a society allows the most horrendous crimes against the black psyche to go unchecked. It makes its' case when it shows a black woman suffering the indignity of an age old racist epithet even as she sits in the White House, in a supposedly post racial America. It points to a blank check of white privilege to demean, degrade and disrespect black life with impunity, all the while imploring blacks to go high while the most recalcitrant in White America are allowed to comfortably languish in the gutter.

It cross examines with ruthless efficiency the positive affirmations of the Black Power Cultural Revolution of the 60's, and the golden era of conscious "rap music" of the 80's, with the macabre reality of staggering black casualties from gang warfare, exacerbated by a mythical war on drugs resulting in massive incarceration of black faces, while its chief conspirators were safely hidden behind a stone wall of extra-judicial fortification, dubiously named plausible deniability.

It's final closing argument is the hypocrisy within Black America itself. For far too long, Black America has masked its' own collective internalization of white depictions of beauty. However, we have taken it to the extreme. Dark Skinned blacks like Glokk, infected with the insecurities of the outside world, become extremely self conscious about their skin color and lash out to protect their humanity. In a world where their pigment is an indictment of both their manhood and intelligence, they are understandably hostile in a world driven mad by the artificial toxin of white racism.

Thus every action they commit, is a self-fulfilling prophesy of dark skinned blacks being more hostile. The funny part is that while we dehumanize their presence, we hyper-sexualize their hormones. Therefore, their skin color becomes a titillating symbol of bestiality. Any meaning of love or sexual expression is fetishized as they become walking dildos in the underworld of white sexual curiousity-----A curiousity created from the dehumanizing power relationship formed during chattel slavery.

We must also look at how we describe dark skinned people in the black community. Words like, spook, fast black, smoke, darkness, midnight, and crispy round out our descriptions of our own people. This is the case even among those who possess an enlightened state of consciousness described as "woke."

Take for example, Author, Entrepreneur, Film-maker, & Media Personality Tariq Nasheed. When Nasheed engaged in a war of words with Social Media Mogul Tommy Sotomayor, he christened Sotomayor with the nom de guerre of crispy. After realizing the nature of the insult's hypocrisy in light of his newfound enlightenment, Nasheed tried to change the definition of the word to mean ashy.

This farcical articulation was hollow at best. Any black person with a modicum of common sense and understanding of street slang knows that crispy does not mean ashy. It is an indictment against someone having a little too much "melanin". Nasheed's rationalization of his high school perjorative shows just how pervasive white images of beauty are within the black psyche.

We must also examine the oft ridiculed argument of black on black crime. While the woke community views this argument as a deflection from discussions on white racism, it nevertheless becomes the impetus for government policies of mass incarceration, redlining, gerrymandering, and gentrification. There is an air of imbecility to their (the conscious community) counter-argument that one kills those who reside in the closest proximity to them. Dead black bodies are dead black bodies. This is especially witless when one considers that blacks constitute only 13% of the population but make up a disproportionate amount of homicide rates in the country.

It is probable that structural economic inequality contributes to these statistics. But that fact does nothing to prevent the horrific consequences of sinister stop and frisk like policies which result in even more deaths of black men at the hands of the State. It is as though even in the 21st century, the haunting voice of Billie Holiday is engaging us with ghastly images of strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees. Shockingly, we have become so maladjusted to these state of affairs, that we are either too ashamed to challenge them, or so deformed as to see them as normal.

Thus, in many ways we have suffered a kind of pre-fatality. A fatality of the spirit that has succumbed to the inevitability of black annihilation. And what precedes that inevitability? The degradation of the black presence. A deep, visceral loathing of black features that designate our sui generis. This makes all of our celebrations of blackness hollow boasts of feel good-isms that bear no resemblance to our true feelings about ourselves. What do superfluous ceremonies like Black Girls Rock really mean when we are un-happy with our own hair?

Mentally, it appears that we have come full circle in regression from Black is Beautiful, to the devolution of simpleminded insults like "african-booty scratcher." In our imaginations, we are Malcolm X. But in our souls, we are Uncle Ruckus. The awful truth is that in the present world order, Glokknine is somewhat heroic in that he speaks a truth that we ourselves are too cowardly to admit. A truth that says that no one really believes that black is beautiful. Not even us. Like the rest of the world, we really believe that black is ugly as fuck.

TONY MACEO is the Chief Blogger at Power & Strategy.com and a Senior Blogger at the Negromanosphere. Like and Share the articles. Subscribe to the website. Follow us on FB@ Power and Strategy. Become a supporter on Patreon @powerofstrategies, or Paypal at wayofstrategy44@gmail.com.

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